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271

THE LONELY GOD-KING

SONNET

The strange relief to God when he at last
Touches the walls of empery supreme!
When no stars glitter through a golden dream
But God thanks God that he has made the past.
The giant rest to God when through the vast
No more white clouds with wings unearthly gleam:
When no more moons or suns or comets stream
Before his gaze half loving, half aghast.
To touch the walls of his own empire:—Rest
Eternal to the heart that moulded all.
To sleep at last within his golden hall,
Pillowed on some divinely loving breast:
To cease for ever from his dateless quest,
With heaven's effulgence round him like a wall.
1883.